


Fitting In - Orlando's POV

by Blueskydancers



Series: Secrets and Consequences [1]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, M/M, My version of The Sweeney - the 70's TV version!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 04:27:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2934872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueskydancers/pseuds/Blueskydancers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Detective Sergeant Orlando Bloom joins The Sweeney he is fully aware that he has secrets to keep. What the consequences of keeping secrets is though, is not revealed for some time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fitting In - Orlando's POV

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in October 1980
> 
> This is my version of the 70's tv programme The Sweeney. I had a conversation with a friend when we were trying to think up which LOTR characters could play the two main roles of Regan and Carter and this is what happened. This series is very much set in London so hence the frequent use of London/Cockney slang - I'm happy to explain if anything is too baffling but hopefully context should help :)

**October 1980**  
Detective Sergeant Orlando Bloom opened the door to the squad room and the sound of controlled chaos instantly assaulted his ears. As he looked around for someone who could tell him where he was supposed to park himself he was relieved to see several familiar faces from the Regional Crime Squad. A few of them looked up and nodded or waved making him feel immediately at home.

At twenty-four he’d already been in the job for more than five years and to have made DS in such a short time was exceptional. The promotion interviews and exams had been tough, but he was ambitious and he was hoping that a spell in the Sweeney would give him a leg up the career ladder.

“Hey, Lando, welcome aboard. Glad you made it.” 

Reg Young held out his hand in greeting and Lan shook it. Reg had been a DS when Lan first made detective with the Regional Crime boys and they had worked together for about eighteen months before Reg was transferred into the Sweeney. It was a bit of an antiquated practice but men already in the Sweeney put the names of other detectives, who they regarded as good squad material down on a list. Then when a vacancy came up, the names on the list were considered first. Reg had put his name down several months before.

“Reg, good to see you too, mate.” Lifting the carrier bag in his hand, he asked, “Got anywhere for me to put some stuff?”

Reg nodded, “Sure, we’ve given you that desk over by the window. Come on, get yourself sorted and I’ll introduce you to the guys.”

Ten minutes later, Lan had dumped his few possessions in the desk drawers and had been introduced to about eight blokes, only ninety percent of whom he knew he would remember tomorrow. Each unit within the Sweeney was manned by one Detective Inspector, four Detective Sergeants and eight Detective Constables, so Lan knew that he would manage to avoid most of the crap jobs as he was slightly higher in the pecking order.

Lan pointed at the crowded, shabby office. “They don’t let you see too much luxury here then, Reg.”

“Nah, they think that by keeping us in crap, we’ll all spend most of our time out on the street rather than inside.”

“Ah right,” Lan grinned, “Nothing’s changed then.” 

“Want a coffee?” Reg said, nodding in the direction of another doorway.

“Yeah, sure,” Lan agreed.

They walked down to the canteen and Reg bought two coffees and two jam sponge rolls while Lan found them somewhere to sit.

Reg brought the tray over and sat. “So how’ve you been since N Division?”

“Good. It was really busy and I learned a lot.”

“I told the guv’nor you were good when your name came up for the transfer.”

“I appreciate it, Reg.” Lan sipped some of his tea, “What’s he like, the DI? I’ve heard of him but never met him.”

Lan was a bit apprehensive, he’d heard mixed things about DI Bean, but he knew he’d get the truth from Reg. 

“Bean’s a good bloke. As long as you do your best for the team and to keep the scroats off the street, he’ll back you all the way. Screw up because you’re sloppy or lazy and he’ll rip your balls off himself and feed them back to you.”

Lan wasn’t sure whether he should be worried by that comment or not. He wasn’t sloppy by any means but he had been known to cut corners to get results. He just hoped that Bean wasn’t going to get bent out of shape because of it.

The rest of the morning was spent getting himself organised and beginning to go through some cases in progress. Around one, Reg re-appeared.

“The guv’nor’s been in court this morning but he said to drag you down to the Queen at lunchtime and he’d buy you a drink to welcome you to the squad.”

They walked in through the swing doors of the pub and to Lan it looked like a typical coppers place. A threadbare carpet on the floor, plastic bench seating along the walls and a few tables with mismatched chairs, there was also the traditional nicotine stained ceiling.

Lan pushed his way to the bar a fiver in his hand. He figured that buying the first round wouldn’t hurt. “What will the guv’nor drink, Reg?”

“A pint of bitter,” An unfamiliar northern accented voice said from behind and to his left.

Guessing this was his new boss, DI Bean, he nodded, “Sure thing.”

Taking a breath - after all he was about to meet the man who could have a huge influence on his future - he turned around to pass out the drinks, but when he saw the bloke standing there, his mouth went dry. 

Fucking, cunting bollocks! 

Bean was his every fantasy come to life; tall, with just the right breadth of shoulder, and blond hair that would be long enough to grab onto during a decent blowjob. 

Since joining the force, Lan had kept his sexuality hidden, knowing that preferring men would finish his career before it even started. He’d religiously managed to avoid pissing on his own doorstep, making sure that any time he indulged, the act was never more than a mindless fuck. And now, within five seconds of seeing his new boss, he was gagging to be bent over the nearest table and screwed six ways to Sunday. 

There was no doubt about it, he was fucked or not as the case may be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next week flew by in a rush of work, which helped Lan keep his highly developed libido under some sort of control, but it wasn’t easy.

Late one Tuesday afternoon, Lan was out and about talking to the various informants he had groomed over the years. Most of them didn’t move in the same circles as those who were of interest to the Sweeney, so he didn’t expect to get much useful information. But Bean wanted them out and about getting their faces known, so that’s what he was doing. It would take time to build his list of informants, but Lan was still impatient. He wanted to be in the thick of things, making a difference. It was a relief then when he met up with Reg in the pub later to see the older man was grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

“Whatcha got?” Lan asked as he waved at the barman to attract his attention.

Reg waited until they had collected their drinks and were headed to a quieter part of the pub to say, “Gold. Pure fucking nine carat gold.”

“So, what is it?”

“An illegal dog-fighting den in Enfield.”

Lan shrugged, “That doesn’t seem enough to make you so excited.”

“Nah, the best bit is that they also have half a dozen girls on hand for the punters, and at least a couple of them might be underage. The thing that will make the guv’nor cream his pants though, is that the place is owned by some titled hooray Henry.”

“Yeah he’s a bit anti-royalty on the quiet, isn’t he?” Lan suggested, desperately trying not to picture how hot Sean would look when he came.

“Not really; he just doesn’t like pricks who abuse their position. So any sort of jobsworth would get a mouthful from him too.”

Wincing because Reg’s unfortunate comment had put the idea of going down on Sean into his head now, Lan said, “So are we going to do some more surveillance, just to check it out before we plan a raid?”

“I’ll check with the guv’nor but that’s the way he usually plays this sort of tip off. If we just busted in, we’d look like a right set of prats if the info was wrong.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Late the following Thursday evening, Lan found himself outside a medium sized, single storey warehouse unit in an industrial estate that backed onto the River Lee, sitting in the back of a Ford Transit van with six other men. A similar van was parked a hundred yards away. Numerous other vehicles containing local Woodies and dog patrols were parked out of sight waiting to grab anyone who tried to escape once the raid began. Surveillance of the dilapidated building over the previous week had confirmed Reg’s tip off. That informant was going to be on a nice little earner.

They’d been waiting half an hour and the atmosphere in the van was getting a little ripe, when Bean banged on the divider separating him from the rest of the men, “Okay, the Honourable Marcus St John-Smythe has just arrived so we’re going in. Don’t forget, I want that bastard caught red-handed. That’s your job, Lando. Concentrate on nicking him and let the others mix it up with the heavy mob that are bound to be around

“Right, guv.” Lan wondered for a moment why Sean had singled him out to go after St John-Smythe but then dismissed the thought, Sean was the boss and it was up to him how he played it.

Bean led the dozen men over to the gated opening in the shutter door of the warehouse which served as the front entrance to the club and stood to one side as one of the bigger lads kicked it in. Without hesitation, Bean headed into the low building. 

Inside the room it was dark apart from a circular floodlit area in the middle of the floor surrounded by a circular barrier. A fog of cigarette smoke hung in the air, swirling in the beams from the floodlights. The smell of blood was strong and Lan wasn’t surprised to see crimson splattering the wooden walls of the makeshift arena. Two ugly looking mutts were snarling at each other in the pit while their handlers held onto their collars, taunting them to get them sufficiently worked up. There were still shouts coming from those punters closest to the arena, but as those further back became aware of something happening they quietened down until the only sound left was the growling and snarling of the dogs. 

In the resulting silence Bean shouted, “Right! This is the Police and you are all nicked. We’ve got more men and dogs outside so if you want your arse chewed just try to make a run for it.”

There was a moment of stunned silence and immobility, which was just enough to let Lan catch sight of the Honourable Marcus’ slight figure, standing to the left of the arena. He had what looked like a bodyguard standing on either side. Moving quickly, Lan reached him before he could react and attempted to grab his shoulder. One of his goons tried to stop him, but Lan blocked the punch and kicked out instead, catching the thug square in the bollocks. The man crashed down like a tree in a high wind and didn’t move. 

Lan looked at the second bodyguard with an expression of contempt. Working for a man who let other men screw underage girls was about as low as you could get as far as he was concerned. “You want some of the same?”

The bodyguard paled at the sight of his colleague who was now moaning on the ground and then held his hands up, “No way. I’ll come quietly.”

Lan grinned and looked at Marcus. “Right, you’re nicked.”

“Fuck off. It’s sorted, I pay my dues,” Marcus sneered.

“I don’t care who you see alright. We’re the Sweeney and you’re still nicked,” Lan had to shout back as uproar had now set in. The club had turned into a melee of men making for the exits and fighting with the police who were inside.

Sensing Lan’s moment of inattention, Marcus bolted, but instead of heading for the chaos of the main exit, he headed deeper into the building. Lan followed.

When he came to a staircase and heard footsteps ahead, Lan didn’t hesitate, vaulting down the first short flight of steps. He speeded up, anxious that the bastard didn’t escape and make him muck up his first real job for Bean. As the corridor walls flew past he was aware that they were dank and slimy and with part of his mind he realised that he must now be at the same level as the water in the river just outside. 

The corridor turned to the left and without stopping to check, he barrelled around the corner straight into Marcus who was wielding a large piece of wood. 

The piece of four by two caught him on his left upper arm and shoulder and instinctively he lashed out with his other hand, landing a lucky punch that sent Marcus crashing to the ground. Determined that he wouldn’t get away, Lan followed him down, letting Marcus’ body cushion his fall. Landing heavily, Lan delivered a vicious head butt to make sure his quarry stayed down. 

With Marcus out for the count the pain from his arm and shoulder came back with a rush. It was excruciating, and the sensation of the broken ends of the bone grinding together made him feel sick and dizzy. Fortunately, Lan didn’t have to wait for long before he heard someone approaching. Hoping that it was a friend, he let himself slump down onto the cold damp floor of the corridor, his head spinning.

“Bloody hell, lad. When I said make sure you nick him, I didn’t mean you to get hurt doing it.”

Lan tried to smile at the familiar voice but it really hurt too much. Bugger it, why’d it have to be Bean that found him? Anyway, did Bean think he wanted to get hurt? Shit, it was getting difficult to think because his head was so woozy.

He must have blacked out for a minute, because the next thing he knew, Bean was crouched beside him, gripping his undamaged shoulder, “It’s okay, lad, an ambulance is on the way.”

When he started shivering, Bean must have realised that he was shocky and took off his own jacket and laid it over him. Sniffing, Lan found the scent of aftershave and the slight musky smell that was undeniably Bean, comforting. He closed his eyes as the sensation of cold around him increased. 

From a distance he heard Bean swear, “Fuck it! Where’s that bloody ambulance?”

Suddenly, everything was drowned out by noise of a woman sobbing. When Lan opened his eyes to see where the noise was coming from, Bean was frozen in place beside him not reacting to the sounds at all. 

Lan tried to speak but couldn’t get any words past his chattering teeth. The crying intensified, and away on his left, silhouetted against an open doorway which he somehow knew led out onto the river bank he saw the shadowy figures of a man and a woman. They were struggling. Then the man slapped the woman hard enough to knock her down, leaving her dazed. Bean still didn’t move, and Lan wondered why he apparently couldn’t see or hear them. The scenario continued and as Lan felt himself on the verge of passing out once more, he saw the man bend, pick up the dazed girl and vanish through the doorway that he knew led to the river bank.

It was only when medical help arrived and reality clicked back into place that Lan realised that no matter how real it had seemed everything he’d seen had been a hallucination. 

While he was being loaded onto a stretcher, he closed his eyes and let his mind whirl. The phenomenon was something he was familiar with, as there had been other similar visions in his past, but it had never impinged on his working life before. He knew that Marcus had murdered a girl and dumped her body in river. But how was he going to explain it to Bean? How could he make sure that Marcus was charged with murder? None of the other girls or the punters would stand up and give evidence, even if they knew anything, unless there was a good chance of a conviction. For that, they needed a body. And to find the body, he needed to convince Bean to get the divers in to search the river.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lan had been pleasantly surprised when Bean had stayed with him at the hospital during the x-rays and while he’d had a plaster cast put on his arm. When Sean offered him a lift home, Lan realised that it was the perfect opportunity to convince Sean to search the river.

By the time they reached the flat he shared, with another copper, in Islington, it must have been nearly four in the morning and Lan was dead on his feet. Nevertheless, he needed to make sure that Marcus didn’t get away with murder. Lan knew his type; he had money and connections and if he managed to get out on bail – something that was likely if he was only charged with running an immoral house and the illegal gambling – he’d disappear over to the Costa del Crime in Spain and they’d never get their hands on him.

The pain killer they’d given him in casualty was beginning to wear off and he just wanted his bed, preferably with Bean in it but he honestly didn’t think he’d do himself justice right now. 

“Do you want to go to bed?” Bean asked. 

Lan thanked God that his libido was on vacation. Responding in the way he would like to invitations like that would get him into the shit so fast it would make his nose bleed.

“Not right away, I need a drink and I’ve got something to tell you.”

Leading the way into the kitchen, Lan opened a cupboard and found some glasses. Fortunately, Bean took over before he discovered just how difficult it was to open a bottle with only one usable hand. Pushing him down into a chair while he poured scotch into two glasses, Bean set the smaller one down in front of Lan.

“That’s all you’re getting with the medication you’re on or you’ll be flying without wings.”

Lan nodded, “Okay.” He took a sip of the scotch. “When I was down in the tunnel, I was feeling really woozy because my arm hurt like fuck. But I think I saw something important.”

“What?” Sean asked curiously.

“I saw Marcus pick something up – I think it might have been a body – and dump it in the river.” 

“Jesus, Lando, why are you only just telling me this now?”

Lan winced and rubbed his shoulder, “I wasn’t really sure before and it’s only now that the painkillers are wearing off that I have a clearer idea of what I saw.”

“I have to ask; are you sure that’s what you saw?”

Lan yawned, “Jesus, Sean.” He realised with a start that it was the first time he had called his boss by his first name. “I’m too tired and hurt too much to be sure of anything right now. But if you don’t check it, Marcus will make bail tomorrow morning and piss off to Spain.”

Sean smiled, “Yeah I know. Tell you what, I’m going to get you some more of the painkillers, help you to bed and then maybe poke around at the club for a while. I’ll call in the divers as soon as it gets light.” 

Somehow Lan managed to stay un-aroused – though it wasn’t easy and he thanked God for the medication’s help – when Sean helped him out of his clothes and into the track pants that he used to sleep in, and then into bed. He shifted around trying to find a comfortable place to put his arm.

At the bedroom door, Sean turned and said, “I’ll ring you tomorrow to check you’re okay and to let you know what we find. Don’t panic about coming back to work too soon; let your arm rest for a while.”

“Okay, g’night, and, Sean, thanks.”

“No bother.”

Just before he dozed off Lan realised that when the divers found the body and a post-mortem was performed, it would be obvious that the body had been in the river for more than a few hours. Shit! He’d have to cross that bridge when he came to it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Three Days Later**  
That bridge appeared the following Monday when he finally dragged himself back into the office. A couple of the lads had been around to visit over the weekend and Sean had called, so he knew that the divers had found not just one body but three. All three had men’s ties around their necks which had pretty much confirmed the cause of death. Several dog carcasses in weighted sacks had also been discovered, strengthening the case against Marcus for organising dog fighting.

The results of the post mortems performed on the victims were due today and that was one of the reasons for Lan making the effort to get dressed and get into the office.

It must have been about ten o’clock and he’d been there for maybe twenty minutes when Sean finally walked into the office, a brown cardboard folder in his hand. He saw Lan and immediately came over to where he was sitting.

“Hey, good to see you back. How’s the arm?”

“Before Lan could reply, Reg chimed in, “He’s fine, just horny because with that cast he can’t wank.”

Before his brain caught up with his mouth Lan replied, “Piss off! Besides, I’m right handed.” 

This got a laugh from the rest of the team who were gathered around and Lan felt himself blushing.

Sean laughed along with the rest of them, but Lan thought he saw a fleeting expression of something cross Sean’s face before he said, “Right, listen up you buggers. I’ve got the results here from the doc.”

The last few chuckles died away as Sean opened the folder.

“As yet we don’t have definite identification on any of the bodies though they’re all in their early teens. All three have been in the water for more than a week.” 

Sean sent a pointed glance his way that had Lan squirming and not for a good reason. Shit! He was going to have to come up with a bloody good answer to how he knew about the bodies. 

“The common factor, and why we think they were killed is that all three girls were pregnant;” Sean continued, “The doc reckons about six months gone in all three cases. Which would give Marcus a reason for getting rid of them; they couldn’t work for much longer and he wouldn’t have to find a way to explain three underage pregnancies.” 

“Can we tie him in to the murders, guv?” 

Lan didn’t see who asked that question, but he needed to know the answer desperately. He knew that Marcus had killed all three girls, but saying he had seen him dump one of the bodies was not going to stand up in court. The defence could easily argue that he was injured and pain and mistaken about what he thought he saw, which would be backed up by the pm evidence.

“Well that’s where we’re lucky. So lucky in fact, that I’m going to buy you all a drink later.”

“Bloody hell, it must be good news for this tight northern bugger to put his hand in his pocket.” Reg shouted.

With an evil grin, Sean said, “Right, for that comment, Reginald, you’re buying the second round.” He looked back at the papers in the folder. “Where we are lucky, is that the Honourable Marcus is such a prat that his ties are exclusive and handmade. The makers have positively identified the one that was used to kill one of the lasses as his. His brief is going to have to argue long and hard to get him off that one.” Sean closed the folder with a flourish.

Lan was fixating on how Sean had sounded when he said ‘long and hard’ so that he jumped when Sean stood next to him and put his hand on his shoulder, with a quiet, “Thanks, Lando.” 

“What for, guv?”

Sean waited until everyone had gone back to their own places before he spoke again, his voice low, “I’m not sure how you knew that Marcus had killed those girls and put them in the water, and if you don’t want to tell me then that’s fine, because the important thing is to put that bastard away for good. But if you ever do feel like letting me know how you knew, it would be in confidence – just between the two of us.”

“I’ll think about it. Yeah?” Lan was sure if he told the whole truth, they’d have him carted off to the funny farm.

“Yeah, no problem.” Sean patted his shoulder, “You know, Lando, I think you’re going to fit in just fine here; just fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tags will change as we go through this story for guest appearances and content.


End file.
